A/N: New chapter!

ossini: Thank you for reviewing! lol...let's...not.../snickers/ be so blurt about...poor /giggles/ Neville's shortcomings. Although for the purpose of the story, he would be less clumsy and OOC. He has more backbone since he doesn't have a stern grandmother looming over him, and he is expected to save the world, after all.

fullmoon: Thank you!

Chapter 2:

The fourth morning after the night, Severus was standing outside his cabin, ready to turn back and enjoy his just-cooked-lunch, when Harry came again; he was carried inside. Long ago teh boy had stricken a bargain with his master that he did not have to go to Severus every day, but for everyday he was not there, he would be punished until he agreed to return.

The soldiers left without a word. Left alone, Harry moved his head a little so that he could see better, and said in a quivering voice, "Oh Severus, it is so nice to see you again."

Severus frowned, "No need to pretend now that they are gone; I know the so-called punishment has no effects on you now."

Harry carefully rested his head on his arm; when he spoke again, all the weakness from his voice was gone, "No, it was not the beating," he agreed. And Severus heard him sniffing the air. "It was the food, you know, "he added decidedly, "I should be better off after a meal."

Severus sighed with exasperation, "Well, what are you waiting for then? You don't expect me to feed you now do you?"

Harry looked at him wishfully, then he sighed and said in mock hurt, "No, I did not expect that much." With that he jumped up from the floor with much ease and nimbleness, and was at the table helping himself the next second.

"So…" Harry had finished consuming the last bit of her meal, leaving the plates shining and was now looking at him expectantly.

Severus groaned, "No, I do not want to talk about that night."

"Well then, are you leaving here?"

Severus was much taken aback by this unexpected question, "No…why?"

"I heard people talking, when they thought I was out, that is, about my leaving you."

Severus sighed, he had not realized how fast Harry had grown, "How old are you now, eleven?"

"Almost twelve," Harry replied proudly.

Severus winced. "What is it?" Harry asked, and then he knew. "It is me then, isn't it? I am the one who is leaving…"

"Well, not until you are twelve."

"That's in four days then," Harry said, "and master will send me to the other place." Severus did not speak.

Harry ignored his obvious desire to stay silent as he always did when he chose to, "Severus, you came from the other place, didn't you?"

Severus almost jumped with surprise, "And what led you to make such an assumption?" He glared.

Harry looked right back, "You are the only one here who really knows the other place. You told me about its beauty, its people, its cultures, even though I would not understand. The others, they only tell me about how they conquered their towns, destroyed their land, and killed their men. And you are not like the others, you never fought, you just tended the wounded and taught."

Severus snapped, "I only told you those because I knew you'd use them one day. If you go there only talking about how you'd kill their people you'd be in trouble in no time, Master Hand or not."

Harry smiled dreamily, "But isn't it grand, maybe I would understand 'blue' or 'grass' when I actually see them, or is the grass 'green'?"

Severus sighed, his expression unreadable. But you are only sent there to destroy them, to make that land the same as this one.

Severus stooped over the sleeping boy, lost in thought. Harry came to him earlier that evening and had simply stated, "Severus, I want to stay at your cabin today." There was no other explanation, and none was needed.

Severus almost laughed then, "Oh, you almost sounded as if you would miss me."

Harry looked up at him, his voice sincere, "Of course I will."

Severus sighed again over the puzzle that was Harry Potter. His lips trembled, but his hand was steady as he held out the dagger. He fingered it absent-mindedly. It must be done. He had waited too long already, in vain hope that he might be able to turn Harry to the Light side. The boy was dangerous, and this might well be the last time he was in the power of Severus. He had always held a soft spot for the child, yet it was foolish of him to hope that he would be able to break the bond the Dark Lord held over the boy. He had, after all, witnessed the ritual being performed in the Dark River himself.

He gave the boy another look; the child looked ever so tranquil (but then Severus' own Sleep Potion was always efficient). It was hard to believe that such an innocent-looking thing would be the Dark Lord's most faithful servant. Innocent-looking? Severus sneered wryly. Heck, Harry even had his first kill, and talked about it in such light terms. Severus' vision was clouded with anger and he almost choked with emotion as he thought of Harry's first kill. The boy was nothing more than a killing machine, a destroyer, who heeded no one but her Master! His heart hardened at the thought. He must destroy the boy before it was too late; it was the last thing he could do for his fallen king. He had served the one he hated most thirty long years; now he must carry out his mission all along. He must destroy the child.

The dagger fell down on the floor, and Severus bent down, suddenly feeling very weary. He had failed, failed his people, his land, his king. He looked up at the sleeping boy, and, with a sudden urge, whispered to his ear. The boy did not stir. Severus sank down to the floor, wholly spent. When he woke up the next day, the bed was empty, and Harry was gone.

It was a rather chilling morning in the kingdom, there was no precipitation, no wind, just the penetrating cold. Shacklebolt looked up at the still visible moon and cursed the weather. It was just his luck; his first day as the gatekeeper, and he got the coldest day there ever was in the kingdom, and it was only spring. Through the thick fog, though, he could hear the clear sound of hooves. Shacklebolt straightened his helmet and placed his hand on the handle of his sword, "Who is there?" he called. No answer came.

But the cold did. Shacklebolt felt the coming of it, a cold that penetrated his armor, his bear-skin robes, his skin…He felt it taking over, freezing his limbs, his torso, advancing towards his heart. "Who…who is there?" he called again, but realized that only a croak came out of his throat, inaudible. Shacklebolt wanted to call for others, but his trembling hands would not allow him to find the whistle. Suddenly out of the fog leaped a great, black warhorse. The beast neighed ominously at Shacklebolt, its nostrils expanding and its eyes blood red. It was then Shacklebolt noticed that something – someone was sitting on the horse. He looked up, and his eyes was met with a pair of green eyes that were colder than the coldest winter nights. But just then he felt the cold let go of him, vanishing inch by inch, as did the fog. Shacklebolt sank down to the floor, panting.

"Are you alright?" a child's voice asked.

Shacklebolt looked up to see a small boy who looked no more than eleven. He had midnight black hair and very pale skin. The great black horse was besides him, now looking more peaceful than ever. Shacklebolt looked into his emerald eyes uncertainly, yet they offered him nothing but the innocent look of his age. Shacklebolt felt shame coming upon his face; his first day on duty, and he started imagining things and mistaking a child for some devil. "Yeah, right," he cleaned his throat, and attempted to regain some authority "What are you doing here? Why do you want to enter the kingdom?"

The boy looked at him sadly, "Surely you can tell that this horse is not mine..."

Shacklebolt was about to demand for a clearer answer when a thought came across his mind, "You, you mean there is new attack…" He almost whispered the question. The Dark Lord's last invasion was not easily forgotten; and hearing of attack after twelve years of peace was alarming news indeed.

The boy nodded, "I am the only one escaped from my village…Pa would not let me stay, and Old Floke was scared, I couldn't stop him from running…" He looked down.

Shacklebolt didn't know what to do, he patted him on the shoulder embarrassedly and said (in what he hoped would be a soothing tone), "Well, well, now you go in and find your kin, and I'll sound the warning."

The boy nodded and called for the horse. Shacklebolt looked as they disappeared into the city, not noticing the fact that although the boy claimed to have ridden on horseback for days, his garments, though crude, were spotlessly clean.

A/N: Here it is. Hope you enjoyed it. I apologize for its shortness, but as I mentioned before, this fic is finished already, and it does tend to have short chapters. I don't see anyway to fix that unless I change the fic fundamentally...so please bear with it.

Important: I am really, really in need of a beta, I would really appreciate it if you all would enlighten me as to where I could find them. And please contact me at wanamaker05 (at) yahoo. com if you are interested/have information or just drop a review! Thank you!